


Wade Wilson, The Enemy

by bloodrunsred



Series: Faith and Fear in You [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Avengers, Protective Wade Wilson, Sequel, The Defenders (Marvel TV) Spoilers, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22995949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodrunsred/pseuds/bloodrunsred
Summary: Direct sequel to Peter Parker, Evil Incarnate:Peter is used to fighting. He's used to seeing danger at every turn, using his powers for the greater good of New York. But now... his mind is shattered, and he is grasping at memories that don't make sense, memories that turn friends into foes and safety into something sinister.He doesn't remember much, but he remembers Deadpool's mask, a bullet, and pain: he thinks they might hate each other.There are two evil forces in the work as Peter struggles with new conditioning and old instincts, and they'll have him rip the city apart before he tears himself in two from the inside out.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Faith and Fear in You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671007
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	Wade Wilson, The Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> WOWOWOW LESS GO
> 
> a day later than i had expected, but i rewrote the entire plot because i read 1 (one) comic so we have that going for me. click [HERE](https://xbloodrunsredx.tumblr.com/) for my tumblr, and [HERE](https://patreon.com/bloodrunsred) for my patreon :')

_Knocking feels weird. Formal, for their relationship, like it doesn't quite fit what they are. Though, they still have to talk about exactly what they are to each other. He waits for a minute, resting his forehead against the cool wood while listening to the scuffling from inside. He pulls back as the door is unlatched, the doorknob turned, and Wade steps into the door-frame._

_They stare at each other._

_ “Petey?” Wade finally asks, stepping closer like he's afraid Peter will disappear into the wind. “Spidey?” _

_ He's been crying. Drinking. There's a red stain on his shirt, and Peter knows what else he's been up to.  _

_ “Yeah,” Peter is empty, the lying and fighting, the running and dying hollowing out his insides and leaving him aching. “I’m so sorry, Wade--“ _

_ Before he can finish his sentence, Wade is striding closer, confident footsteps betraying the emotion on his bare face. Peter doesn’t have time to be shocked by Wade’s lips on his before he’s melting into scarred arms. _

_ “I fucking love you, Petey-Spidey,” Wade murmurs when he finally pulls away. “I still can’t believe—shit, I feel like an idiot. Death told me I was too late. She told me, and I was trying to get you back, I promise-” _

_“Don’t feel bad, Wade, please,” Peter pulls him down for another kiss. “You were the first person I’ve ever told. And I’m glad it’s you.”_

_ Wade searches his face, blue eyes swimming with a kind of uncertainty that Peter never would have thought to associate with the infamous Deadpool. He must find what he’s searching for, because his arms are wrapping around Peter tighter and tighter, his back hunched and his face buried in the crook of Peter’s neck. "I killed you," he says, his voice muffled, thick with unshed tears. "I'm so fucking sorry, Petey, I never wanted to--to hurt you like that." _

_ Peter pulls away, his eyes wandering across Wade's face before leaning in for a slow, chaste kiss. "You could never hurt me," he tells him when they break apart, the words too true and vulnerable for comfort. "I love you, Wade, and I was a coward for not telling you sooner." _

_ “I never thought you would like me like this,” Wade’s voice is deathly quiet, his lips moving against Peter’s own. “With my face, and my admittedly work-in-progress type personality. Along with what I did to you, and how perfect you are...” _

_Peter doesn’t laugh, even with the obvious inflection of a joke that taints Wade’s words. “I’ve always liked you,” he admits. "And I always thought that you were too good for me."_

_The look on Wade’s face when he pulls back makes Peter feel like he might have a heart after all._

_"I think that I should maybe go," a girl with blonde hair says, stepping out from behind Wade. "You guys are so cute by the way--is that weird to say? You know what, I'm just leaving before I make an even worse impression." She squeezes past them, and Peter sees her flashing Wade a thumbs up out of the corner of his eyes._

_"Should I be jealous?" He teases, rising onto his tip-toes to get closer to Wade's face. "Girls in the apartment, and after I just died too! For shame."_

_Wade barks out a laugh, one that has a grin spreading across Peter's face as well._

_"Never," he holds Peter's face in his hands. "And you're acting way too casual about the death thing, too. Should you to to therapy? That's probably rational, right? I've died a shit-ton of times, but I'm kind of a nutcase so I'm not the best frame of reference."_

_"Probably." Peter pulls him down again. "But I think that we're about to be way too busy to go anytime soon."_

_Wade pushes the door shut, and Peter holds him tight. Now that he has him, he's never going to let him go._

_After all, even Death won't do them part._

  


* * *

  


_ One year later.  
_

_  
_

* * *

  


Wade whines whenever Peter tries to leave without giving him a kiss.

It's annoying and endearing all at once, but Peter has never once hesitated in planting his lips on Wade’s, and Wade is placated whenever Peter obliges. He’s grown used to their routine, of Peter rising up on his toes to close the distance between them, planting a smooch on Wade’s lips as he darts out of the door before he's made late to wherever he's going.

It’s their  _ them,  _ and Peter loves it more than words could possibly say.

That doesn’t make everything perfect, though: Wade is a slob that struggles to clean up after himself, and Peter is a workaholic with something always needing to be done.

Considering their history as well… it just makes sense that they get help when it comes to dealing with the superhero-based parts of their relationship. What can he say? They’re a bit of a work in progress.

History including getting shot by the man he loves, and then dying weeks later.

That’s where the doctor ( _'Call me Vin, Spider-Man'_ ) comes in: suave and charming, genteel and understanding, he’s the second psychologist that Peter has ever met, and his favourite considering the circumstances of why he went the first time. He’s also painfully, irritatingly--in the sense that Peter can’t help but be jealous--unique, and Peter has put a lot of faith in him: for good reason.

Vin has the qualifications, and Peter has a problem (or, more accurately more than one, but technicalities don’t count). And there's something about British accents that scream capability.

He makes it to his appointment with seconds to spare, though travelling in his spider-suit tends to cut down on most commutes. The good doctor doesn’t know his name (though he doesn’t think it would be hard to figure out, even if he has toned down on the obvious details), or his face; given that it’s SHIELD and they kind of owe him from talking Wade down from taking them out on numerous occasions, he’s less inclined to care. Especially since he's already had this conversation with the doctor before, before he was firmly convinced of his safety.

"Hello, Spider-Man," he says gently, smiling with no teeth.

"'Sup," Peter responds, to which the man laughs gently. He's suave and charming, and if Peter hadn't met Wade (and hadn't pried enough to realise that the man is the straightest person he has ever met), he would have been interested for sure. But Wade's goofy voices beat the British accent any day of the week, and his hysterical laughter outstrips the polite chuckle by a mile.

"You're a man of few words, Spider-Man, as always. So, tell me: how are things between you and Wade?"

_ Tick, _ the clock in the corner says.  _ Tick. _

Peter takes a moment to pause, turning the question over in his head, before coming to a hesitant answer. "Good,"  _ smiles and laughter and Wade saying 'I love you, baby boy'. _ "Sometimes I wonder if--if I should be more afraid of him than I am. Sometimes... I think I might be broken, or ruined, for not being afraid."  _ Nightmares of screaming and crying and Wade who sounds so, so angry _ . "But then when I am scared of him--not really scared, just antsy after nightmares--I feel so disgusting for putting him through that."

_ Tick _ . It's getting on Peter's nerves, his hearing delicate enough that he can hear the inner workings of the clock, the shift and grind of gears that accompanies the whirring of machinery.  _ Tick _ .

Vin--Avenger, Fantastic Four, and Defenders sanctioned psychologist (it's quite the impressive resume)--nods thoughtfully. "It's a peculiar situation, I think we both can appreciate that." He takes a moment to glance at his notes. "If you and your partner and this situation were, for lack of a better term, _normal_ , would you want to break up with him? Answer me honestly now."

_ Tick _ .

"I don't want to break up with Wade," Peter says immediately. "It wasn't his fault--well it was--and I should have supported him better. I knew he was protective, I knew about his past, I knew about almost everything and I still let him feel like there was no other option. Look, it's been a year and I just want to know why I can't just get over it."

_ Tick _ .

"Well that's a strong conclusion to come to; that you're both at fault," he says, leaning back in his chair, his pale hand smoothing over the knee of his purple pants. "Now, do you believe you're in danger? From Wade, from the world, even?"

_ Tick _ .

Uncle Ben, dead; shot through the heart. Dead, dead, dead: Peter's fault? His head had screamed danger and his heart had screamed fear and then... red. On his hands, blurring his vision.

_ Tick _ .

Is he in danger? His enemies are always hiding in the edges of his mind, and just last week the Green Goblin escaped. Daredevil, as tight-lipped as he can be, had mentioned to Wade and him when they were having a _Team Red_ moment, that he and the Defenders have been suspecting foul play to do with the recent death of a lawyer. He guesses that he's taken too long to answer, because Vin purses his lips. "You _are_ in danger. I imagine one disaster would have you spiralling, yes?"

_Tick_ .  


"Yeah. One more disaster..."

_ Tick _ .

"You'd turn on people as well. Men like you always do, affected by science, and war. You think that one more disaster and your life will be over. It's understandable."

_ Tick _ .

"I-"

"Good," the doctor looks down at his watch before standing, dusting off his crisp slacks. "Well I suppose whatever you were going to say is something for next time. Thank you for your time, Spider-Man. Let me know when you would like to see me again." He hands a small, wrapped gift to Peter, who smooths down his mask before taking it. It's pretty and dainty, wrapped in yellow paper. "Just a gift for your progress."

"Thank you," Peter says, feeling a sudden rush of emotion build up in his chest. "For everything... it means a lot."

"Goodbye, Spider-Man," the doctor says, but he smiles. Peter appreciates his professionalism, and shoots him a finger gun before leaping out of the window, package tightly in hand as he free-falls for just a minute, startling birds and walking citizens alike with a big woop that comes from somewhere deep in his gut. He needs to get home soon; his and Wade's anniversary is coming up, and the sap is insisting they make it a week-long celebration. Peter--deep down--secretly likes the idea. A lot. 

He shoots a web just in the nick of time, and pulls himself up high, high, high, before letting the web strand go in favour of admiring the package, helplessly curious about what his doctor could have possibly given him.

He's a strange man, but Peter can't deny the results; besides, he doesn't know an intelligent person that isn't strange, himself included. 

Peter shoots another web, almost falls: doesn't.

They've talked a lot about his past, and it feels kind of good, like he's tried to bandage a wound by himself but it needed stitches and he's finally gotten them done. (Stitches, face, burning burning burning, hurt, it's all His fault).

Maybe the memories aren't always good but-

_ Tick _

The parcel explodes.

And Peter is gone, falling further and further than ever before, his panicked breathing helping him inhale a lungful of toxic-green smoke that makes his vision go blurry and his mind swim--like when he was little and he fell into the pool before he learned to swim. He's high up and afraid, but also tired: like how he felt when he woke up from death for the first--and last time--and he wonders if she'll stick true to her promise and let him pick his organs up from off the ground when he goes splat.

Peter's mind is teeming, confusing, and he climbs the spider-web behind his eyes, watching fractals of memories disappear beyond his grasp and he thinks he must have passed out: he'll be hitting the ground soon.

The gas seems to have inspired some memory within him that says  _ good  _ and he's inclined to let himself go splat against the asphalt, bones breaking and teeth flying and heart stilling. He'll die, he thinks, but maybe not: he remembers Lady Death and her promise to him and Wade, a promise borne from bittersweet happiness over her old spouse finding someone new. Peter--the name strikes a chord in him, of an old man and woman, and before them: a woman with eyes like his and a man with curly hair, just like his--doesn't feel right in his head, his mind turning over the name. Pe-ter. Pe-ter.

No it's not  _ quite right.  _

Peter Parker should have been gone by now, right?

This might be death… but no. He doesn't think so.

It can't be, he realises, and he mustn't have passed out after all if he can tell. It can't be at all because he's been caught, strong arms around him, caging him in like he's a wild animal.

_ Smiles and laughter and Wade saying 'I love you, baby boy'. _

_ Nightmares of screaming and crying and Wade who sounds so, so angry. _

Their--the mystery saviour and  _ Peter _ \--descent is slowed by the wire that's connected to a building somewhere, somehow, and Spider-Man takes in a deep breath that tastes like ash in his mouth. 

_ Nightmares of screaming and crying and Deadpool who sounds so, so angry. Nightmares of dying and waking up cold and alone, and there's no one with him anymore and it's freezing, he can't stop himself from shaking. _

_ ‘With great power comes great responsibility,’ and a gunshot to the chest and there’s blood on the street and there’s blood on his hands and he knows that it’s his fault. _

_ Someone’s talking, about humanity and the good of society, but all he can focus on is the huge chunk of metal that’s piercing his thigh, the pain of it distracting him from the murder that tinges his vision, almost overpowering the sense of right and wrong he feels so strongly.  _

_ All he feels… is anger and pain and sadness and there’s a small twinge of betrayal there too. _

And then he’s  _ cured _ . The parts of him that had previously been thrown apart have been stitched together by whatever it was he inhaled: things were pieced back together all at once, tossed and jumbled and he feels broken but whole. 

Someone has been speaking to him, he recognizes vaguely, and he opens his eyes (when did he close them?) to meet masked ones, white and cold and familiar.

_ Sirens and police and shouts and blinding pain that's as much a part of him as his powers are. _

"-aby?" he hears and he flinches away. That's… Deadpool.

His ears are ringing. He feels unsafe, in danger and he's spiralling, falling down memory lane. 

"What--" they've landed on the concrete, but Peter  _ (Pe-ter) _ struggles to find his way onto his feet, can feel the earth shifting under his feet when he tries to lean away. He shakes his head, aware of his mask and how it feels tacky with blood and sweat.

"Baby-Boy?" Deadpool says, and it hurts. It makes Peter's heart pang, makes his pulse speed up, makes him afraid. 

"Back up, Deadpool," Peter says, because he remembers bits and pieces of sitting on rooftops and eating food together, but it's overshadowed by the betrayal that followed. "Back--back it up."

Deadpool starts forward… and Peter runs.  


  


* * *

  


_ Deadpool starts in his memory, impolite and crude but funny anyway. There are jumps and skips that lead to one thing: Deadpool pointing a gun at him. _

_ And then darkness. Pain. Suffering. _

_ There's a voice in his ear that whispers, about letting go and holding on and letting go and holding on, and Peter wants to fall asleep to it, obey it. _

_ Deadpool is darkness. Pain. Suffering. _

_ Peter can feel it in his bones. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i love love love you guys and i'm excited for this new story!


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